Dreams of The Past
by Mandimal
Summary: No one really knows what happened to Fenris before he was etched with lyrium, but the Inquisitor may hold the answers. When one man's dream of the past is different from the other's, who's to say who is right?


Author's Notes:

Fair warning- I took some liberties with Fenris's origin in this, and probably will continue to take liberties with him. One of the biggest ones that you will notice is the fact that he has most of memories back. I figured after his night with Hawke and the confrontation with Varania, his mind would have slowly given them back to him even if he didn't realize it. Anyway, enjoy! And just so you know…reviews are life.

Chapter 1

_The great Slave Auction in Tevinter's capitol city of Minrathous was once considered one of the wonders of the world- Leto supposed that it all depended on whether you were slave or slaver. This was before Andraste of course, and the fall of Dumat. The venue was impressive enough- a massive, marble amphitheater with twenty rows of terraced seating topped by a giant gilded dome that shimmered in even the weakest light with handset jewels and hammered gold leaf. You could stand anywhere in Minrathous and see the Gateway, as it was called in common parlance. _

_It was said that The Gateway could hold 50,000 people at one time. Of course, that many people bidding at once would be utter chaos so while everyone was admitted right away, they ran the auction in stages. The first round would be skilled workers, trained fighters, the mage-blooded, and those who were above average in beauty or intelligence. If you were unfortunate enough to be a slave in Tevinter, you wanted to be sold in this bracket. Those of the Magisterium and noble houses (which were pretty much the same thing) were given first bids. The Auctioneers reserved the first three rows for active bidders and for tier one and tier two sales, it meant that you had to buy your seat. It was a…gentler sale, for lack of a better term. Nobles didn't generally make you strip naked on the podium, display your teeth to verify your age, or whip you to prove your tolerance for punishment. _

_Leto thanked his lucky stars that he had never had to face a sale. He couldn't imagine standing in his smallclothes in front of a crowd this size, waiting to see who would own his life. Not that being born a slave could be considered particularly lucky but it was all he knew. Unless Master Danarius had a severe change of heart- which was about as likely as the sun setting in the east- it was all he was ever likely to know. _

"_Sold!" The Auctioneer trumpeted. "To Magister Lympo for 50 gold sovereigns, thank you sir. "_

"_Highway robbery," Master Danarius commented as the abnormally tiny Qunari woman with the strange, curling horns was led off the platform. He held his wineglass up to Leto to be refilled. Beside him, Mistress Hadriana sniffed. _

"_You know Lympo and his bizarre tastes." She reached up in a casual stretch, slyly trying to knock Leto's elbow enough to make him spill the wine he was holding but he was anticipating it and dodged her easily. From the pout on her face, he knew he would pay for it later but right then it was a small victory. _

_He handed the glass back to his master, taking care to make his movements as smooth and graceful as possible. Danarius deliberately brushed his fingers against Leto's when he accepted the glass. The elf had to fight the urge to shiver. The look in Danarius's eyes had started to get downright…predatory since Leto had turned sixteen and started to lose some of his baby-faced innocence._

_Leto was brought out of his unsettled thoughts by Hadriana's venomous hiss. "Well, look who can't even be bothered to come on time…"_

_Magister Halward Pavus and his son-Leto tried to remember the name…Damian? Darian?- were making their way into the prime seats in the very front row, supremely unconcerned that they were late. Leto watched their slaves with a pang of jealousy. Rumor was that Halward never allowed anyone to lay a hand on them, they were given a half-day off every week and his son even taught them to _read_. Leto wondered what it would be like to just pick up a book and be able to escape within its pages._

"_Dorian's looking very fetching in his apprentice robes." -Dorian! That was the name!- "The focusing crystal on his new staff must have cost Magister Pavus a fortune." _

"_Nothing's too good for his _perfect _boy with his _perfect _grades and his _perfect _face_," _Hadriana sneered. But Leto caught the look on her face as she watched Halward listen carefully to something Dorian said before laughing and clapping his son lightly on the shoulder. He was obviously proud of the boy and from the way Dorian was smiling up at the older man he obviously adored his father. It was debatable whether Hadriana had ever gotten that kind of attention- surely Danarius never treated her as anything more than a means to an end. For just a moment Leto felt badly for her but then he remembered the thousand petty hurts she delighted in inflicting on him and the pity faded. _

"_If you would work harder, you could match him." Was all Danarius said to her outburst. "Don't be jealous because you're lazy and he's not."_

_Hadriana opened her mouth to reply but was drowned out by the Auctioneer. "Lot 321! A mage-blood here ladies and gentlemen, guaranteed to be no more than 14 years old! Young enough to train, docile and obedient. Bidding starts at 20 sovereigns." _

_A ripple went up from the crowd at the high starting price, but 20 sovereigns was instantly bid by Magister Lympo as the auctioneer led the mage-blooded slave to the dais. Leto wasn't even sure if the elf was a boy or a girl but two things he was certain of- he was a true albino with red eyes, long white hair and ghostly pale skin. And he was _beautiful. _Beautiful in a way that made you look again and forget what you were thinking, that made your blood heat and pulse race. _

_The elf stood half-naked on the dais with heavy lyrium-infused chains on his hands and ankles, a similar magic-blocking collar around his long neck, and yet nothing about him said 'slave'. He surveyed the crowd with interested, intelligent eyes as though he were simply watching people in the marketplace and not as though he were the one being sold. _

_A flurry of bids drove the price up to 45 sovereigns in a moment. "50!" Leto couldn't help but blink in surprise. The bid had come from Hadriana. She had been talking about replacing her current personal slave, but the price was high even for her. _

"_55." The bid, cool and composed, had come from Dorian Pavus. He shot a look over his shoulder- he knew exactly who he was bidding against. Leto would have bet his left ear that he didn't even want the beautiful mage-boy- he just wanted to drive the price out of Hadriana's range. Then again, maybe he _was _bidding for himself- rumors had started circulating about young Master Pavus's lack of female company, strange for a boy of his age and stature. At any rate, it was none of Leto's business who Dorian Pavus did or didn't share his bed with._

"_60!" Hadriana shot back._

"_65." _

"_70!"_

"_125 sovereigns." And that was that. Magister Lympo shut down the bidding in one decisive stroke, unwilling to lose what would be the gem of his menagerie. It was enough to field a small army for a month but Lympo didn't seem to care. He was the epitome of glee as the auctioneer counted one, two, three, SOLD. Leto felt distinct pity for the boy as the elf was led to join Lympo's other slaves. Each and every one of them wore the look of defeated curs, always expecting a blow. The boy was the last of the tier one auction. Danarius stood- nothing but the best was worth his time- and beckoned imperiously to Hadriana and Leto. Lympo also stood and made his way to his assembled slaves. _

_True to form, the first thing Lympo did when he joined them was strip his new acquisitions naked and lay five stripes across their backs with the gold-handled bullwhip he kept wrapped around his neck at all times. Five stripes- five letters in his name. Leto had heard him tell Danarius at a dinner gathering once that he wanted to be sure that they understood who owned their skin from the first moment. The others all cried out, or at least whimpered…all but the albino. He stood under the lash like a sentinel oak, barely swaying as it bit cruelly into his translucent skin. Lympo was apparently greatly pleased with him- he patted the elf's cheek and said a few words that Leto couldn't hear but with the fondest expression on his florid face. _

_It was then that he made his mistake. After checking to make sure the other slaves were safely loaded in the back, he motioned for the elf boy to sit beside him. Leto watched the boy carefully take the bullwhip from his master's hands. He slowly and tenderly wrapped a few coils around Lympo's neck and Lympo, thinking that the boy was merely putting the weapon back where it belonged, allowed the contact. The cart lurched into motion….and suddenly the magister hit the ground. The boy had dropped the handle and a goodly portion of the whip into the spokes of the cart wheel and the motion had pulled it tight, along with the length around Lympo's neck. The driver saw his master fall and immediately stopped the cart…but the horses, not appreciating the abrupt handling, reared and pushed the cart backwards. Lympo didn't even get the chance to scream before the heavy wheel ran over his head. _

_It was literally seconds from the moment the boy's hand had touched the whip to Lympo's demise. No one had seen what had happened except Lympo's slaves, Leto…and Hadriana. Hadriana moved quickly through the oblivious crowd, cut the whip free, and spoke a few words to the driver. He looked down at the generous purse in his hand and drove on, leaving Lympo's body on the ground where it lay. _

_The beautiful, white-haired mage boy was already seated at the slave's table when Leto arrived at dinner that night, along with the tiny Qunari woman and the three other slaves that had been in Lympo's cart. Leto felt his palms break out into a sweat, but he sat beside the elf anyway. "So…You killed him." He said nonchalantly while helping himself to bread and butter. _

"_Actually, the cart killed him." The boy-and he was just a boy; Leto didn't think he could be more than twelve or thirteen- didn't appear to be offended. The corner of his full lips quirked up into a grin and laughter lit his ruby eyes. _

"_Right. My mistake." Leto offered his hand. "I'm Leto." _

_The albino shook it, his smile turning genuinely happy. "I'm Fiel. A pleasure to meet you, Leto…" _

Fenris woke up in the watery grey dawn, the dream…no, memory… still vivid in his mind. Hawke shifted and murmured something beside him, sensing his unease. Fenris's eyes caressed her face fondly. It hadn't been long since they had been reunited and he had missed her deeply. The memory of the brilliant smile on her face and the fierce kiss they shared when they reunited in Skyhold Valley yesterday made him almost giddy.

She would NOT be pleased if he woke her this early however, so he took care to slip silently into his clothes and out into the crisp, early morning. He didn't think about the dream again until coffee was bubbling in a pot on the edge of the firepit and bacon was sizzling in the skillet. He hadn't thought about Fiel in years…first the lyrium tattoos had stolen all his memories, and then when they had come back, he almost wished he could have scrubbed the knowledge of Fiel's fate back out of his head. It brought him pain even now. He looked around for something to distract himself and settled on admiring Skyhold Castle standing tall and proud just beyond the valley, looking less like a fortress and more like it simply grew out of the surrounding mountain.

He was all for pushing for the castle last night but Hawke was strangely hesitant. When pressed, she had explained…

"_The Inquisitor absorbed the apostate mages from Redcliffe into his ranks, Fenris. They've set up shop in the castle."_

"_It's not like I've never seen a mage before."_

"_This isn't like Kirkwall where everything magical is carefully contained and monitored. You practically can't sneeze in Skyhold without hitting a mage or an apprentice or a tranquil. Not to mention the Inquisitor himself…"_

"_The Inquisitor is a mage?" Somehow Fenris had missed that part, but he wasn't surprised. "It figures. Only a mage would welcome a volatile group of frightened spell casters into his ranks as full equals and let them roam free mere months after a graphic demonstration of what too much freedom does to mages." _

"_Ok, you cannot talk to him like that. You just can't, Fenris." Hawke ran her fingers through her short hair, rumpling it up in a gesture of mild despair. _

"_Why? Is he going to set me on fire if I disagree? Strike me down with lightning? Freeze my blood?"_

"_No, but…oh, I can't explain. You'll see when you meet him." _

_Fenris sighed. "I suppose I will."_

"_One other thing …" _

"_Don't insult the Inquisition. I've got it, Hawke." _

"_No, that's not it. I thought I'd warn you…" Hawke took a deep, fortifying breath. "There are a couple men from Tevinter here and one of them is an Altus mage." _

_Fenris's eyes narrowed, "Do you know his name?"_

"_No. Inquisitor Lavellan only told me because he heard that you were an ex-slave and wanted to be sure that there wouldn't be trouble."_

"_If he keeps his magister on a tight leash, there won't be trouble." _

"_Promise me, Fenris." _

_The elven warrior looked deep into his lover's pleading eyes. "I promise." _

"_Even if you have to fight beside him? Because he's usually a part of the Inquisitor's battle party."_

"_I fought beside Anders didn't I?"_

_Hawke sighed. "Yes, you did. Reluctantly and protesting every step… "_

"_Don't worry so much. You'll get wrinkles. Well, more wrinkles…" _

Hawke had struck him hard on the arm for that, but ceased her interrogation. They had gotten so involved in welcoming each other that Fenris had forgotten to ask what kind of man the Inquisitor was. He supposed that he would find out shortly.

After breakfast, and more importantly to Hawke, coffee, they made their way down to the gate of Skyhold Castle. It did not seem a good omen to Fenris when they were met by an elven mage in rather unkempt robes. Hawke, however, didn't miss a beat.

"Good morning, Messere Solas!"

Solas. This man was not the Inquistor then. Solas politely returned Hawke's greeting, but Fenris barely heard. His thoughts were getting the better of him, like grey clouds on the horizon. Of course the grand mage Inquisitor couldn't be bothered to meet someone like him…or Hawke for that matter. It was absolutely unsurprising that he would send someone else. "I intercepted your note," Solas was saying as he indicated the raven on his arm. "But when I went to inform the Inquisitor, he had already gone. He's usually in the stables at this time of morning…ah, and I see he continues to be true to form."

"Hawke! It's wonderful to see you again so soon." The voice that spoke was a warm, rich baritone. It sounded much younger than Fenris was expecting. "May I assume this is Fenris?"

Fenris turned to face the man who had spoken and felt the blood freeze in his veins. Little bursts of light flickered behind his eyelids as his brain struggled to remember how to breathe. His complete and utter shock was mirrored in the Inquisitor's eyes- eyes the color of port wine, framed by tousled white hair. The jaw was stronger and the Dalish vallaslin that twined its way around his left eye was new but the absurdly high cheekbones and ghost-pale skin was the same, and so was the mouth. That mouth…made for laughter, witty banter, and soft kisses in the dark…

And it was framing a name. "Leto?"

Fenris crushed the smaller man into his arms, still unable to speak or process anything but the fact that this was Fiel…this was the beautiful boy from his memories grown into a gorgeous man and standing hale, whole, and the Commander of the Inquisition. Fenris wondered for a second if he was hallucinating, but he could feel the Inquisitor's magic against the lyrium tattoos in his skin. It was a feeling that he was intimately familiar with and impossible to fake.

"Leto…I can't breathe…."

Fenris immediately loosened his grip. He was still reluctant to release him, but he was beginning to become vaguely uncomfortable at the looks being directed at them by curious onlookers. Especially since one of those onlookers happened to be a very wary Marian Hawke. "So…you know each other huh?"

It was the understatement of the year, but both men knew that the words were less of a statement and more of a warning. "We do," The Inquisitor said with a sigh, "Let's go to my office and I'll explain…"


End file.
